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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564339">In My Arms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks'>DPPatricks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Starsky &amp; Hutch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:15:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22564339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DPPatricks/pseuds/DPPatricks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from “A Coffin for Starsky”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In My Arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This ficlet was inspired by February’s fiction prompt on the Starsky&amp;Hutch The Original Bromance FaceBook page: choose one or more of the images offered and write something. I hope the one I picked is self-evident because I’m not techie enough to include it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Buddy, I’m here. I’m right here.”</p>
<p><i>God! What a stupid thing to say. Of course I’m right here, where else would I be? My partner’s dying - injected with a progressive poison by a maniac we can’t find!</i> </p>
<p>
  <i>Starsky’s hurting and all I can do is hold him, try to absorb some of the pain. I’d take all of it if I could. I’d change places with him in a heartbeat! I hope he knows that. I guess he does. At least he’s not pulling away from me; he trusts me enough to cry in my arms. He’s the strongest person I’ve ever known and he’s bearing up under the kind of agony I can only imagine. These tears are the very least he’s entitled to. </i>
</p>
<p>He shudders and I tighten my grip on his shoulders, weave my fingers into his hair.</p>
<p>
  <i>He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, the best partner any cop could ask for. We’ve put our lives on the line for each other a dozen times or more since the academy, but I feel so helpless in this situation. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We talked to Sweet Alice and she sent us here to Janos’ studio. Slimy bastard’s making pornos in an abandoned grocery store. Sexational Films! Cute. But not the right laugh.</i>
</p>
<p>Starsky’s tears have stopped but I don’t let go. Not yet. I ruffle his curls, instead and try for levity. “Hey, we do our best work when we’re under pressure, remember?” He huffs and I finally allow him to pull away from me. </p>
<p>I give him my handkerchief and he unashamedly wipes his eyes and blows his nose. Trying to smile the lop-sided grin I love, he glances up at me. “Don’t worry, pal, I’ll wash this before I give it back.”</p>
<p>I attempt to look stern but I’m not that good an actor. “You’d better.”</p>
<p>Accepting my help, he gets to his feet. He’s still shaking a little and I keep my arm around him. </p>
<p>“Okay, so where do we go from here?” he asks. </p>
<p>I can’t stand to see him in so much pain and I grasp at the only thing I can think of. “Let’s go see Cheryl. Maybe she has something that’ll help so we can concentrate on whatever we’ve forgotten.”</p>
<p>“Good idea, partner. We’ve got twelve hours, right?”</p>
<p>“Right.” <i>God, please help us get through this because, if he dies, I don’t think I could go on. He’d want me to, but I don’t think I could.</i></p>
<p>“I can hear ya thinkin’, Hutch, and it sounds a little pessimistic to me.”</p>
<p>We reach the Torino and he walks slowly around to the driver’s side where he stops and stares at me over the roof. “I’m usually the glass-half-empty kinda guy but this time, I’m takin’ the optimist’s view. We’re gonna figure it out. And I’m not gonna die.” His look sears my soul. “Okay?”</p>
<p>I have no alternative but to agree. I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay!”</p>
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